Homesick
by Leca B
Summary: Homesick. She was homesick. "I hate my freckles." "Well, I love your freckles." Sometimes you only need someone to show you the good things you don't find home. ScorpRose Oneshot R&R, plz.


Hey there. This is a oneshot I wrote last year. I am cleaning up my room, and I started finding notebooks with fanfics and I'm typing and publishing the good ones. I admit, this one's not my best work. I wasn't exactly inspired, I think, but it's good enough, so here it is.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It all belongs to JK Rowling. She's awesome, isn't she?**

HOMESICK

She knew she was being silly. She used to think about herself as much more than those stupid girls that cried over boys and broken nails. She knew she was more than one of those superficial girls. It was not a secret she wasn't very content about her appearance. She had inherited the red hair of the family, her father's turquoise eyes and her mother's messy curls. She wasn't happy, but she was conformed.

She wiped a tear and pulled a curl of her wavy hair. She wasn't a big fan of herself, but usually she had a pretty high self-esteem to push her up and say she was better than that. If she didn't have the looks, well, she had the brains. But today… If she stopped to analyze herself as she did constantly with others, than she would know she was a mess. She was pretty much unstable and just a bit aggressive. But she didn't care.

She was _crying._ And she hated crying. She hated crying because she felt like a kid, and to an independent mature grow-up girl like her, there was nothing worse than feeling like a kid. It reminded her instantly of those times when she's get scared of thunder storms and she screamed for her father, who would always comfort her and say things would be alright.

Her dad. She was homesick. She missed her parents too much, but especially her father. She was really close to him. Her mother was strong and smart and determined. She could get anywhere she wanted. At the same she was very proud of her mother, she just wasn't that close to her. She couldn't tell her everything, couldn't tell her her weaknesses and fears. Her mother just seemed too… Perfect. Her father was sweet, and nice, and made mistakes. He understood her, understood her because he wasn't perfect either and he didn't expect her to be.

Her tears seemed to get thicker, and she buried her face on her hands. She wished she was six again, so she could be home and give her father a big hug, and he's say thins would be alright.

She sniffed. She acknowledged she was being ridiculous and that her life was very good, thank you very much, she had no reason to cry. But knowing that simply didn't make the crying stop.

"Rose?" a deep male voice called her, concern fully noticeable in his whisper.

She could have died. The only thing worse than crying was being seen crying. She didn't have to look to see who was calling her. There was no need. She knew that voice really well.

"Go away!" her voice was high-pitched and slightly shaking.

"Rose, are you…?"

"Crying? Yes I am! Now leave!"

"Well, I'm not leaving. I simply will not leave you alone in this state."

"I'm not _ill_ to be in a _state_, Malfoy!" she retorted, wiping her eyes furiously in her sleeve.

"Ouch, Rose! Scorpius, friend, remember?" he said lifting his arms in mock surrender. She looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry"

"I'm okay, thank you. My feelings are not hurt. Now, you…"

"Shut up." His back slammed against the cold wall and he slipped till he was beside her. He looked at her.

"Rose."

"What?"

"You know you can tell what's wrong."

"What if I don't want to?" her voice was shaking and her lips trembling again. She was about to cry.

"Well… I can't force you." Her eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted in that typical funny crying frown, as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. One of his arms instantly wrapped around her shoulders and he kissed the top of her head as he felt hot tears fall on his cold skin.

"It's so ridiculous!" her voice was muffled by the crying and by how she was hidden in his hug.

"What's so ridiculous?" he asked, patiently while caressing her hair.

"This crying! Me! My hair!" she said, looking at him for the first time.

His hair was all messes up, as if he had used hair gel and combed it back and somebody decided it would be funny to screw it up. Some of his platinum blond bangs escaped from his usual hairdo and fell on his pretty silver eyes, who now looked at her sweetly. She didn't like that look. She was not used to that look. However, there was not much she could do about it. If she saw someone in a deplorable state such as hers… She'd be giving the person that look too.

"And you concluded that based on what?"

"Uh, I don't know, the mirror?" she responded ironically.

"Then you should get yourself a new one. Yours is probably broken."

She looked at her hands, ashamed. She was making such a big drama. She was not like this. And there he was, hugging her on a rainy twilight. Protecting her from herself. Pushing up her self-esteem. It made her feel dependant. It made her feel stupid. She wanted him to go away. But when she actually pictured that wish, she imagined herself all alone in that empty frozen corridor.

She didn't want him to go away. She wanted him to stay and make things right and make her warm and keep her safe. She wanted him to do what he was doing right now. She lowered her head, a light blush covering her cheeks, and muttered in a nearly inaudible whisper.

"I hate my freckles."

But he heard it. He lifted her chin with a finger, until her gaze met his. Her fair skin full of those orange dots she hated so much, her tear stained face. His very silver eyes staring deep into her turquoise ones.

"Well, I love your freckles." He whispered back in his usual lazy husky voice.

That really sent the shivers up and down her spine and made every little hair in her arms stand up. He didn't like how close he was. She didn't like the proximity of their bodies. She didn't like how she could feel his hot breathe and she certainly didn't like to admit he was the most beautiful thing she'd seen in her life.

And then she betrayed herself wishing he was closer, wishing she could feel more of that masculine scent he had, a perfume only his, that matched hers. And as he kissed her forehead, she blushed deeply, wishing it was her mouth.

"Let's go somewhere warmer. Aren't you cold?" she nodded, wordlessly. He stood up and offered her his hand. She took it. They started walking and he sneaked an arm around her shoulders. She wrapped an arm around his waist. He pulled her closer. And it scared her when she realized she liked that a lot.

And it scared her even more because she knew her father wouldn't like that at all. She felt him hug her tighter.

She was not six, and she didn't wish she were. She was fifteen years old and had a strong crush on her Malfoy friend, and sometimes, like now, she thought he liked her too. And in these moments, she wouldn't be homesick anymore. She'd be perfectly fine.

*****

There it is. I personally think it kind of sucks. Written in September 6th of 2008. I hope you liked it anyway. Byee! Reviews make authors happy.


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